


flying just like

by oddishly



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-11
Updated: 2010-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We have a Wendy-bird all of our own,' said Jon, 'only butterfly-shaped. And, um. We used to call it Ryan.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	flying just like

Brendon was ready for the girls to stop bringing flowers now.

'Thanks,' he said to the girl at the foot of the steps. He smiled at her, taking the roses out of her hands and dropping his head to sniff them loudly. 'They're great.'

'They're for Ryan,' said the girl, her voice lifting on Ryan's name. She went up on her tiptoes, peering over Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon looked sideways to where Jon was standing in front of the door. 'No one loves us, Jon.' He sighed. 'They only ever want the pretty one.'

The girl dropped back on her heels, blushing. 'Oh, I –'

'It's okay.' Jon smiled at her. 'Ryan has a rosevest, we can't compete with that.'

'I think Ryan's still asleep, but we'll give them to him for you if you like,' said Brendon. 'What's your name?'

She told him and they signed her shirt for her before waving her off with Zack. 'She was nice,' said Brendon as they climbed back on to the bus.

'Yeah, not creepy. But – '

'More roses.' Brendon glanced around the room, wondering what to do with them. 'Maybe –' He grabbed a few of their empty beer bottles off the windowsill and walked into the kitchen with them, rinsing out the contents and slipping the flowers inside. He set them back down around the lounge in front of all Ryan's previous sets of roses, placing the final bottle in the centre of the coffee table.

'Nice,' said Jon, impressed. 'Now it's like we're an Italian restaurant or something.'

'A travelling Italian restaurant? Do they have those?'

'They should. All we need is candles.'

Brendon flicked his lighter on. 'Like this?'

'And a depressed violinist.'

'Or ...' Brendon crossed the room to his laptop, searching through his iTunes until the opening strains of a song from _Moulin Rouge_ filled the air. 'El Tango de Roxanne.' He pasted an anguished expression on his face, shutting his eyes and taking hold of an invisible partner before stalking across the room in time with the strings.

'What are you doing?'

Brendon spun back, opening his eyes to see Ryan squinting at him from the doorway. His hair was sticking up all along one side.

'Ryan,' Brendon said brightly. 'You look like a toothbrush.'

Ryan stared at him.

Brendon coughed. He bowed low, flourishing his hand before him. 'May I 'ave zis dance?' he asked without looking up.

'I –'

'Great!' Brendon stood up and waggled his eyebrows at Ryan, plucking one of the roses out of the beer bottles and setting it carefully between his teeth, then reached out to take both of Ryan's hands. He placed one on his own shoulder, keeping the other clasped tight in his fingers. Then he dropped his free hand to Ryan's waist. 'Now,' he said around the flower, dark and impassioned – Jon laughed – 'we dance.'

Ryan blinked. 'Your accent is really bad,' he told Brendon, 'but okay.' He tightened his hand on Brendon's shoulder. Brendon set off across the room again, fiercely focused on the opposite wall. They reached the couch and Brendon manoeuvred Ryan around it. Jon smirked at him and Brendon lifted his hand from Ryan's waist to flip him off. Ryan looked like he was trying not to laugh, eyes flicking from Brendon to the wall and back again. 'Concentrate,' Brendon muttered under his breath, 'I'm about to –' He flicked his wrist and pulled on Ryan's waist as they reached the wall; Ryan spun awkwardly in a circle and Brendon grabbed him again before he could trip over either of their feet. 'And back!'

'This is an interesting kind of tango,' Jon said as they stalked past him again, 'do you know what you're doing?'

'Of course,' Brendon replied without looking up. 'I'm seducing Ryan, obviously.'

'Still?' asked Jon. 'I thought you gave up weeks ago.'

'Never!' Brendon winked at Ryan, then narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth around the rose.

The song was hitting its peak, Ewan McGregor singing at full volume about his heart crying. Brendon slipped his hand further around Ryan's back, holding him close. As the last _Roxanne_ wailed out of the laptop, he took one long step forwards but didn't let Ryan follow, instead bending low at the hip and dipping him low to the floor. Ryan's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to speak.

Brendon smiled at him around the flower. 'It's okay,' he murmured, supporting Ryan against his leg. 'I've got you.'

Ryan's expression changed into something surprised and sort of pleased. He didn't say a word.

'Comfortable?' asked Jon.

Ryan kept his eyes on Brendon. 'Very,' he said, and in the same breath, disappeared.

Brendon stumbled forwards, flailing his arms around in an attempt to stay upright. 'Ryan?' He twisted around, blinking at the space Ryan had just occupied. 'Where –'

He darted a look at Jon. 'What just happened? Where'd he go? Did you see – did he just disappear?'

Jon didn't reply. He was staring at the floor, his eyes huge.

'Ryan?' Brendon had seen Ryan pull some weird shit the past couple of years, _really_ weird shit, but somehow performing in a rosevest didn't quite stand up to _blinking out of existence._ 'Ryan!'

'I don't think he's going to answer you,' Jon said at last. He cleared his throat, pointing just past Brendon. 'Look.'

Brendon looked. No Ryan. 'What is it?'

'Look!'

Brendon followed the line of Jon's finger to see a butterfly quivering on the coffee table. Brendon watched as it flapped its wings slowly without taking off, apparently making the most of the sunshine.

He turned back. 'It's a butterfly.'

'Yeah.'

'And ... did you happen to notice Ryan anywhere around?'

'Yup,' said Jon, and nodded at the coffee table. 'There he is.'

Brendon looked again. The butterfly was huge and brilliant blue, walking with careful steps along the line of a magazine. It stopped at the edge of the table, wings poised.

'_What?_'

Jon kept his eyes fixed on the butterfly. 'That's him,' he said. 'That's Ryan.'

'How can that be –'

'You didn't see, you wouldn't have, but he disappeared and when you tripped there was like, this cloud of petals that came out of nowhere and then there was a butterfly.'

'Petals – rose petals?' Brendon looked at the floor to see that there were indeed four or five flowers' worth of petals scattered on the ground around him.

The butterfly fluttered a bit.

'Ryan's turned into a _butterfly?_'

Brendon took a step towards the coffee table. 'Ryan, is that – shit!' He and Jon both ducked as the butterfly took off, flapping its way through the room. It landed on top of the television, pausing there for a second before taking off again and bouncing along the ceiling.

Brendon leapt forwards and slammed the window closed. He backed away to the couch again and watched the butterfly fly up against the window, exploring around the edge of the glass.

'What are you looking at?' came Spencer's voice from behind them. Brendon half-turned but kept both eyes on the butterfly, just in case.

'Spencer,' said Jon, 'you have one weird-ass band, man.'

Spencer raised his eyebrows and came further into the room.

'Don't freak out,' Brendon said, tearing his eyes away from Ryan to look at Spencer, 'but we might have a problem.'

'Your face is a problem,' Spencer said. 'And?'

'And – shit, where's he gone?'

'Behind the television, it's fine,' Jon said. 'I mean, unless he gets electrocuted.'

Spencer frowned.

'He manages not to most of the time,' Brendon pointed out, 'that's got to count for something.'

Jon turned to Spencer. 'We have a Wendy-bird all of our own,' he said, 'only butterfly-shaped. And, um. We used to call it Ryan.'

'Butterfly-shaped?'

'Yeah. Six legs and everything.'

'You counted?' asked Brendon.

'Well, no, but probably.'

Spencer looked hunted. 'Are you sure?'

For someone who chased Brendon around the bus on a frequent basis for an annoyingly long list of petty transgressions, this was something of a non-reaction. Brendon narrowed his eyes. 'Dude, did you hear? Ryan the human is no more. Only Ryan the winged beast remains.' As if to illustrate Brendon's point, the butterfly fluttered its way around the television and back to the couch, stopping there briefly before continuing on to land on Jon's head.

Brendon turned to Spencer. 'See?'

'Yeah.' Spencer looked torn between bursting into hysterical laughter and running away.

'Any idea what we do about it?'

Spencer shook his head and the butterfly made its way back to the sunny spot on the coffee table.

'What kind is he?' Brendon turned to Jon expectantly.

'What?'

'What kind of butterfly is he?'

'How should I know?'

'You're a photographer,' Brendon said impatiently.

'Making me what, David Attenborough?'

Before Brendon could answer – all photographers were supposed to know about insects, it was like a rule – Ryan appeared again, falling in a flurry of limbs across the floor. 'Ow,' he said pathetically, rubbing his elbow where it had hit the table leg. He pulled himself upright, then jumped when he noticed the rest of the room staring at him. 'What?'

No one answered. Brendon coughed and turned to Jon. 'Is that normal butterfly behaviour, Mr Attenborough?'

Ryan went white. He rolled to his feet. 'Butterfly?'

Brendon flapped his arms helpfully. Ryan looked at Spencer. 'Is he serious?'

'Deadly,' said Spencer. 'You have only yourself to blame for this,' he continued, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever, because if the woebegone expression on Ryan's face was anything to go by, he definitely hadn't planned the experience.

Ryan seemed to understand, though. His look turned into a glare. 'Not my choice,' he snapped.

Jon cleared his throat. 'Are we going to find out what just happened there?'

'Yes, Ryan, what just happened there?' asked Spencer.

Ryan glared harder. 'Nothing,' he said, refusing to look back at Jon and Brendon. 'Forget it, it won't happen again.'

Brendon frowned. He leaned over to press his palm to Ryan's forehead. 'Are you sure?'

'I don't have a fever, Brendon, god, I just –'

Brendon yelped as Ryan disappeared again – this time, inexplicably, into honeysuckle. Brendon watched the butterfly flutter up to one of the bottles of roses.

Spencer groaned and shut his eyes. His head fell back against the couch with a thump. 'Kill me now.' He opened his eyes and held out his wrists in the direction of Brendon and Jon. 'Make it quick and painless.'

Jon quirked his head. 'Shouldn't that be Ryan's line?'

'Ryan,' replied Spencer as he got up off the couch, 'did not spend seven years dealing with the consequences of his best friend turning into a butterfly at every available opportunity.'

Brendon looked up in surprise. 'Really?' He darted after Spencer into the kitchen. 'Are you serious? This has happened before and it's going to happen again and we get to witness it?'

Spencer looked at him.

'Please tell me this has happened before. Please tell me this is a special kind of Ryan Ross childhood affliction that he has never gotten over, that I can laugh at him for until he is old and grey and turns into a moth instead of a butterfly. Please, please, please, Spencer.'

'This is a special kind of Ryan Ross childhood affliction that he has never gotten over,' Spencer said eventually. 'You may continue to piss him off laughing when you are both sixty-four.'

Brendon punched the air. He headed back into the lounge, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Ryan flutter his way along the ceiling.

 

-

 

Brendon fell out of his chair in surprise when Ryan turned into a butterfly again the next morning.

'Why are you surprised?' asked Spencer, blinking. 'I told you yesterday it'd keep happening.'

'You did,' said Jon. 'I remember. Brendon thought it was the best thing ever and sat watching Ryan for hours. Even after Ryan fell asleep. It was sort of creepy.'

'You didn't say it would keep happening _all the time_,' Brendon told Spencer. He pulled himself to his feet and looked around for the butterfly. 'I thought it was, like. A once-every-five-years thing, or something. Which – seriously, where'd he go?'

'Behind the couch,' said Jon, pointing.

Brendon flung himself over the back and stared as Ryan roamed around the table leg. 'I can't believe you didn't tell us before now,' he said. Ryan fluttered up next to Brendon's nose and Brendon beamed at him. 'Ryan Ross, butterfly, and you never even mentioned it.'

 

-

 

Brendon cornered Ryan in the lounge two days later. Well, 'cornered' might have been putting it a bit strong, but Ryan didn't seem to be going anywhere. It totally counted. 'The thing I don't get,' Brendon said thoughtfully, clasping Ryan's wrists tight in his hands, 'is why you still have your clothes on when you turn back into a person again. Aren't you supposed to wake up naked? Isn't that what normally happens?'

'Normally for who?' asked Jon from the other couch. 'Who else other than Ryan do you know that turns into a butterfly?'

'I love a world where that sentence can exist,' said Brendon. Ryan scowled up at him and he grinned.

'I don't know,' said Ryan, 'I just know what happens to me when I wake up. With my clothes on. Brendon, can you get off me?'

'Nope.' Brendon wriggled down a little until he was sitting more comfortably on Ryan's stomach. He transferred Ryan's wrists to his other hand. 'You must have at least thought about it, done some research. Haven't you ever met any other butterfly-men?'

'Please never call me that again, god. And no, I haven't. Let me know if you do.'

'Of course.'

Ryan squirmed. He sent a pleading look sideways. 'Jon,' he said, 'I've always liked you. You're my favourite. You get me out of sticky situations. Remember that time you rescued me from –'

'Where do your clothes even _go_?' interrupted Brendon.

Ryan sighed. 'I don't know. Why do you care?' Then, 'Wait. Don't answer that.'

Brendon smirked. 'Still seducing you, can't you tell?'

'Don't break his heart,' Jon said warningly to Brendon. 'Or you'll spend all the next album telling the world about what a lying, cheating bastard you are. Ryan could get you singing anything. _Anything._'

'Ryan would never do something like that, ours is a classic love story. Isn't it, Ryan.' Brendon jabbed Ryan's thigh with his free hand.

'Ow, Brendon, that hurt, god.'

Brendon smoothed his thumb over the spot he'd just poked. 'Sorry.'

'But yeah, okay, this is high romance. We're Helen and Paris.'

'I'm Paris,' Brendon said at once. He smiled. 'Wait, no, you know what's better? Shakespeare. We're Romeo and Juliet all over again.'

'You know they both die in that, right?' asked Jon, frowning.

'Don't be so defeatist. Romeo just needed a little more faith, that's all. I,' Brendon said, 'have got enough faith in Ryan to fill an ocean. A world!'

Ryan rolled his eyes. 'I'm touched. You know Shakespeare wrote a lot of plays, right? Romeo and Juliet wasn't the only love story.'

'I know,' said Brendon, and moved his hand a little further up Ryan's thigh. 'But you like the idea of being starcross'd lovers just as much as I do.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Ryan, smiling.

'Classic romance, I told you.' Brendon trailed his hand higher, watching for a blush to appear on Ryan's face.

It didn't. Brendon choked when Ryan blinked away from beneath him and he fell through to the couch, Brendon's fingers grasping at thin air where Ryan's wrists had just been. 'Right,' he said uselessly. He watched as the butterfly headed away, first underneath the coffee table, emerging on the other side to circle Jon.

Ryan appeared a second later on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the door. It clicked open and Ryan stumbled backwards into the kitchen.

Brendon hopped off the couch and followed him in. He caught Ryan's eye in the window and walked past him to tug it closed, trying and failing to swallow a smile.

'It's not – Brendon, it's not funny. Brendon. Brendon, c'mon.'

Brendon fixed Ryan with a look. He didn't say anything.

Ryan's cheeks tinged pink. 'I – ' he said, but didn't get to finish his sentence. He disappeared in a cloud of purple petals.

Brendon raised his eyebrows. 'Ryan,' he said to the butterfly now investigating the jar of honey on the side, 'just so you know, because I'm a nice guy and I like you -- nothing will ever be this funny ever again.'

Ryan fluttered his wings a bit to get at the honey. Brendon smiled.

A moment later, Ryan was back, perched on the counter top with one foot in the sink and the other on the bread board. He looked a bit shell shocked, and turned to stare at Brendon with wide eyes.

'Hey,' said Brendon.

Ryan coughed. 'Um. Hey.' He clambered out of the sink but caught his foot on the faucet, and Brendon lunged to catch him before he could trip off the counter.

Ryan's face registered resignation for half an instant before Brendon found himself being showered in apple blossom.

Brendon picked a petal out of his hair and looked at it. He stuck his head back into the lounge. 'I honestly didn't think Ryan could get more interesting,' he said. 'And yet!' He beamed at Jon, pointing with his elbow at the butterfly.

Jon laughed. 'You're not doing very well at wooing him. Think big, Urie.'

'Yeah, well, when your subject keeps growing wings mid-seduction ... I'll think of something.'

 

-

 

Brendon had it planned almost to the minute. When Ryan opened the door to the bunkroom the next night, Brendon dropped to his knees in front of him. 'Oh god,' said Ryan in tones of dread. 'What now?'

'Ryan!' Brendon replied, staring up with an earnest expression. 'I missed you.'

'That's nice,' Ryan said. 'What exactly are you doing?'

'Jon said I'm not thinking big enough. In seducing you, I mean.'

'And this requires you to be on your knees because –' Ryan stopped, eyes widening. He took a hasty step back.

Brendon shook his head. 'Not that,' he said reprovingly. 'Maybe next time, if you ask very nicely. This is something different.' He reached out with one hand and turned the volume up on his laptop on the bed. An easy, lilting melody started playing out from the speakers and Ryan's face dropped.

Brendon winked and put one hand on his chest, fixing a heartfelt expression on his face. He opened his mouth to sing. 'Darling why do I get butterflies, every time I'm kissing you? When you hold me tight and –'

'I _hate_ you –'

'You love me, whatever – do the stars go whirling round and round when we're all alone we two – Ryan, you'd better be listening to this, this –'

'- is not ever, ever going to be useful, so can you _please_ stop with the - '

' - dum dah dum, butterflies red, butterflies blue, oh how they flutter up and butter up my view – '

Brendon let the singer continue without him for a moment, smiling up at Ryan. He was staring at Brendon with an expression that was doing a good job of pretending to be annoyed, but Brendon knew better. Just because Ryan's face was saying - well, pretty much what it always said, which was _bored, let's go_, only this time with a touch more _Spence, help_ than normal - didn't mean his hands weren't saying something rather different, hovering next to his hip like he wanted to reach out to Brendon.

Brendon swallowed and glanced back at the computer. 'When you hold me tight and close your eyes, do you get the butterflies too?'

'I -'

If the butterfly thing was ever going to get boring, Brendon didn't want to know about it. He beamed at the petals drifting down onto the keyboard, making no move to brush them off. 'Butterflies!' he said, jerking his head at where Ryan was bouncing his way along the ceiling.

'I hear Romeo found Juliet on a balcony. Did you think of that?' Jon asked as he walked past Brendon to his bunk.

'I did. I hear Romeo died,' Brendon replied. He clambered to his feet at the same time as Ryan sat up in Spencer's bunk, grumbling when he knocked his head on the ceiling. Brendon narrowed his eyes at Jon. 'Do you want me to die, Jon Walker, is that it?'

'I'll help,' said Ryan immediately. Jon laughed.

 

-

 

It was possible that the butterfly thing was going to get boring.

Brendon stared at the wall, aggrieved. 'Seriously, Ross,' he muttered, 'you couldn't hold it in another, like, twenty seconds?' He threw himself down into the couch, making a face at his hands.

'What were you going to achieve in the next twenty seconds?' asked Spencer.

Brendon shrugged. 'I dunno. It was just, you know – ' he flapped a hand around vaguely in the air – 'I only just got here.' He glanced at Ryan, currently skitting his way along the television screen. 'Hey – hey, Ryan, you'll – '

Brendon unfolded himself from the couch and stepped up to the television. 'You'll give yourself a headache,' he said, and cupped his hands around the butterfly, walking back towards the couch.

A couple of steps in and Brendon was sprawled across one very normal-sized Ryan Ross on the floor. Brendon smiled crookedly down at him. 'Is this going to be a regular – ' he said, but cut himself off as Ryan scrambled out from under him, apparently in a hurry to get away. Brendon blinked at him. 'Um?'

Ryan coughed without meeting Brendon's eye. He swayed on his feet, mouth twisting miserably, then spun in a circle and stumbled out of the door.

Brendon gaped. 'I – what?' He kept his eyes on the door for a moment, swallowing the hurt taste on his tongue. He turned to stare at Spencer. 'Do you – what was all that about?'

Spencer took a minute to look back at him. His expression was either amused or perplexed; it was hard to tell with Spencer sometimes. 'You cannot honestly be asking me that.'

Brendon spread his arms expansively from the floor. 'Apparently I am.'

Spencer raised his eyebrows. He let his head flop back against the back of the couch. 'I am the only person on this bus with eyes,' he told the ceiling, 'unless the driver counts, in which case –'

He didn't even flinch when Brendon hurled a cushion his way.

 

-

 

'It's easier to talk to you like this,' said Brendon, lifting his hand until he was eye-to-eyestalk with the butterfly. 'You're less - um. I'm less nervous.'

Ryan regarded him. Then he took off, flapping his way across Brendon's bunk to an empty chocolate wrapper on the shelf. The foil crackled under his legs for a moment.

Brendon watched him. 'It would be nice if you were here to talk back, sometimes.'

And then Ryan was back, lying sideways across Brendon's feet with the rest of his body hanging out of the bunk. He tipped the rest of the way out with a yelp.

Brendon yanked the curtain back and stuck his head out over the edge. 'Are you –'

The door slammed after Ryan. Brendon swallowed. 'Never mind,' he said, and went back to his magazine.

 

-

 

It took a day or two before anyone picked up on it, but the third time Ryan walked into the Green Room and Brendon walked right out of it, Jon caught up with him on the way down the hall. 'This is your idea of wooing Ryan? Leaving the room every time he enters it?'

'New strategy. I'm playing hard to get.'

'You know he has to actually witness you being a jerk in order to be attracted to it, right?'

'Fuck you. I'm just saving him the effort of leaving, is all.'

Jon blinked. 'I don't know if you've noticed – I'm pretty sure you've brought it up once or twice – but Ryan's developed a habit of growing wings and a couple of extra sets of legs around you recently. I'd guess that gets sort of frustrating after a while; I wouldn't take it personally.' He paused. 'Would you like me to lock you in a cupboard together? At least then you'll be in the same room.'

'Appealing as that sounds,' Brendon said, 'no thank you.' He scuffed his shoe along the wall. 'And what are you talking about? He does it around everyone. Well, all right, not everyone. Not – god, can you imagine if it started happening on stage?'

Jon winced. 'Yeah,' he said, 'no. Let's not.'

They turned a corner down the hall. Brendon had no idea where he was going, he'd just wanted to leave the room before Ryan could start ignoring him.

'I don't think Ryan's trying to piss you off, Brendon.'

'Whatever. Yeah, I know.' Brendon gave Jon a strained smile. 'But it makes getting him to fall madly in love with me a bit more difficult.'

'Right,' replied Jon after a moment. Then he stopped. 'Okay, wait, what?'

Brendon turned around. Jon was looking at him with a faintly bemused expression. 'What is it?'

'I,' said Jon, 'am an idiot.'

Brendon stared at him.

'Okay. Never mind. Let's –'

Brendon took a breath. 'Jon. Did you by any chance think I _hadn't_ been trying?'

Jon waited a moment before replying. 'There is a possibility that that thought crossed my mind.'

Brendon thought about this. 'You are an idiot, yes.' He nodded and they resumed walking.

'And so are you,' Jon added.

Brendon rolled his eyes. 'Meaning?'

'Meaning I am going to go and lie down for a little while until the world makes sense again. You,' he said to Spencer as they walked back into the Green Room, 'are a saint.'

Spencer looked surprised. 'I am,' he agreed. 'Well done for noticing.'

Brendon watched Ryan duck into the adjoining bathroom and sighed. 'Show must go on,' he said, 'I guess.' He cast around the room for Ryan's make-up bag.

Jon patted him on the arm. 'That's the spirit,' he said.

 

-

 

The next time Brendon tried to leave the room, Ryan got there first. He grabbed a book off the coffee table and spun on his heel, leaving Brendon to slope back onto the couch.

'Jesus Christ,' Spencer muttered from behind him. 'It's like living in some Greek tragedy.'

'Or Shakespeare,' Jon said.

'Yeah. Or a high school movie, only with less Drew Barrymore and more – ' Spencer stopped. 'This wasn't any fun even when we really were fourteen years old.'

'Well, now me and Brendon get to experience it too. Have a heart, Spence.'

'Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'm all heart.'

Brendon picked up the bowl of popcorn on the table and started throwing pieces of it at Ryan's iPod on the table. 'Do you think we could just play on opposite sides of the stage from now on?' he asked without looking up. 'We don't have to spend any time together offstage. We could pretend not to know each other, if he wanted. I'll just. Pine from afar.'

There was a pause.

'Or not.'

Jon coughed. 'Spencer! You should talk more about Ryan turning into a butterfly.'

Brendon was running out of popcorn. He cast around for something else to start throwing. 'Or we could play on two separate stages. Real actual surround sound!'

'Butterflies,' said Spencer loudly. 'Right, so, yeah. So it was _all the fucking time_ in school. Every time he got close to a girl who he liked, every time it seemed like something might be about to happen, a bit of – alone time, ten minutes later he'd be calling me up and freaking out about growing wings. It's like his way of courting someone, I don't know. Ryan doesn't do crushes very well.'

'Tell us something we don't know,' Brendon said, glaring at the iPod.

Nobody said anything.

'I don't think I want to be in this band anymore,' Spencer said.

 

-

 

Twenty minutes later, Brendon tumbled back into the lounge. 'Wait,' he said to Spencer's startled expression, 'just – wait. Ryan doesn't do _what_?'

 

-

 

Brendon paused beside the door to Spencer and Ryan's room later that night, chewing furiously on his lip. 'Okay,' he said, trying to build up his nerve. 'All right, I'm doing it.' He nodded, then lifted his hand up to knock.

The door opened before he could do so and Spencer appeared in pyjama pants and a T-shirt. Brendon leapt back, clattering into the wall. Spencer let the door click shut and looked at him in surprise. 'What are you doing?'

Brendon swallowed. He reached across and snagged the keycard out of Spencer's fingers, slipping his own card into the waistband of his pyjamas. 'You're rooming with Jon tonight,' he said, and gave Spencer a light push across the hall. 'Okay?'

Spencer blinked. 'Okay,' he said, and to Brendon's surprise, grinned at him before slipping into the other room.

Brendon waited for the door to close before turning back and hammering on Ryan's door.

'Next time I'm going to let you sleep in the hallway,' Ryan shouted through the door. Brendon heard him get off the bed and took a breath, and the next moment, Ryan yanked the door open. His face changed when he saw Brendon, his eyes lighting up for an instant before he turned away.

'Ryan!' Brendon stayed where he was but laid a hand on the doorknob, pulling it most of the way closed again. He pressed his forehead against the wood, breathing out slowly.

'What?'

'Can I talk to you?'

'If you have to,' said Ryan. 'Are you going to come in?'

'No, I'm going to stay here. Will you listen?'

There was a pause. Brendon had a pretty good idea Ryan was rolling his eyes. 'Fine.'

'I – thank you. I just wanted to say, I know why you keep on turning into a butterfly.'

'Good for you,' Ryan said coolly.

'That's why I'm staying out here to talk. Because I want you to – to not have to worry about turning into one again.'

Ryan didn't say anything.

Brendon wrapped his hand tighter around the doorknob. 'And,' he continued, 'Spencer was right, actually. He's the only person in the whole band with eyes. All the rest of us are idiots, but you especially.' Brendon blinked. 'Wait, forget I said that.'

Ryan still wasn't saying anything.

'It's just – um, I hope you're still there and haven't turned into a butterfly again because otherwise I'm talking through this door for nothing, but – '

'Still here.'

'Oh,' said Brendon. 'Okay, good. Well, then. I'm hoping we can cure this the traditional way and that it's not about to backfire on me, because what I'm trying to say is –'

He swallowed and pushed the door open. Ryan was standing on the other side with wide eyes, one hand pressed against his mouth, the other stretching halfway out to Brendon.

Brendon smiled and stepped inside the room. 'Wow, you give me butterflies,' he said, and catching both of Ryan's hands in his, pulled him close and kissed him.


End file.
